


There is a place

by Cibee (Cibeeeee)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eloping, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Slash, cockblocking kids, harry saving draco from the manor, some chapters might be rated e
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 17,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22940893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cibeeeee/pseuds/Cibee
Summary: Short one-shots/drabbles/stuff from tumblr
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 192
Kudos: 369





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://cibeewastaken.tumblr.com/)

“Happy anniversary.” ****

The smile on Harry’s face froze.

“Yeah, er,” Harry laughed nervously as Draco sat himself in Harry’s lap and pressed a loving kiss on his cheek. Oh, god, Draco being affectionate unprompted, without at least two dozen barbs first? This must be a big one.

But how could it be? They got together in March, not December! They moved in together in July. They kissed for the first time on December 31st (they read the time wrong). What the hell was left? Sex? But last time Harry brought up their first time having sex Draco hexed his hair into straws (plastic straws). As if it was Harry’s fault that Draco came without touching! 

(“It is your fault,” Draco had shouted. “I am a prime example of the male species! I do not come just from a good dicking!”

“I don’t think it was that,” Harry had said, trying to defuse Draco’s fluster. “I think it was because I told you I love yo — ”

Draco hexed him.)

“It was an amazing day,” Draco sighed against Harry’s ear, all but melting. “It started right here.”

Now Harry was really confused.

“Er, not that I, um, don’t appreciate this,” Harry said. “But I … don’t remember what you’re talking about.”

Draco pulled back, and to Harry’s relief, he didn’t look angry or on the verge of turning Harry’s hair into other environmentally hostile substances. He just looked — delighted.

“Oh, don’t you?” Draco crowed. “Any chance to tell this tale! You do love me.”

“Um,” Harry said.

“It started, a year ago on this day, on this very sofa, I said to you, ‘Harry, sweatheart, don’t you think we should leave the cake home?’”

“Do you mean sweetheart?” Harry asked dryly.

“I do not,” Draco looked pointedly at Harry’s armpits. “Anyway, then you said, ‘But Draco, star of my night, lovely-haired darling, destroyer of ginger fiends — those are my official epithets, by the way. It’ll do well for you to remember that.”

“More like prat of the endless speech,” Harry said.

“Oh, hush,” Draco planted a hard kiss on Harry’s mouth. “As I was saying, you said, ‘But I spend hours slaving away to make that cake!’ Then I said, ‘But Mrs. Weasley will cry big tears if you brought food to her Post-Christmas luncheon. She will take it as an implication that you do not like her food! Please, I beg of you, listen to the brain of this relationship!’ And you said, ‘I know her since I was eleven, I think I know what I can or can’t bring.’ Then what happened? You brought your cake, she cried big tears, and you turned to me — this is the good bit, pay close attention — ‘Well, Draco, you were right. I should always listen to you.’”

Harry stared at Draco. 

Then, “I said that _sarcastically_!”

Draco cooed. “Oh, loveliest, you could never master true sarcasm. Just as you could never master perspicacity, not like the flâneur that I am.”

“So today is the anniversary of me saying you were right?” Harry deadpanned.

Draco sighed dreamily, swooning with delight. “The best day of my life.”


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Oh_ ,” Harry sighed. “Christmas market.”

Draco snorted. “What’s wrong with Christmas markets?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, eyes glued to the glittering lights. “Just, I’ve never been.”

Draco stared at him incredulously. “How is that possible?” 

“My family never allowed me,” Harry said. “And after … it just seemed — not important, for a while.”

Draco softened.

Harry turned away from the noise, the crowd, and the smell of spices. “Let’s go. We can’t be late, Kingsley will kill us.”

Draco thought about the gala, then looked to the market. Then he thought about little Harry, locked inside a car, staring after his relative as they showered his cousin with sweets and cider. The awful image was enough to stop Draco.

He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him towards the market. Harry, wide-eyes, let him for a few steps before remembered to protest.

They looked ridiculous, both clad in dress robes. Draco was sporting an astounding amount of frills. Harry, clad in white, looked too lovely to be stuck in a ballroom anyways. Draco stopped in front of a stall and bought a heart-shaped cookie as big as his face.

“Oh, my god,” Harry said weakly. Draco turned, his robe flew out behind him and he bowed to his waist, presenting the heart. Harry flushed and took it, the other hand dragged Draco up. Draco laughed and let himself be pulled against Harry. 

“The stupid gala happens every year,” Draco said. “We can miss it.”

“The market happens every year, too,” Harry said. Draco ignored that.

“I would buy everything here for you if that’s what you want, Potter,” Draco said without thinking.

Harry laughed. “You’re mental.”

“You knew that,” Draco tugged at Harry, and they made their way through the crowd. “You missed this for the last twenty-nine years of your life. It’s time to make sure you will be able to go for the next twenty-nine. Wouldn’t that be pretty?”

Harry ducked his eyes, face wet from the snow melting on his face. Next twenty-nine years of Draco still bossing him around and offering to buy Harry everything. Making him dress up in stuffy clothes then skipping the gala. Smiling at him and saying, _wouldn’t that be pretty?_

The way Harry felt in that moment, loved and hopeful for the years to come, it indeed felt very much so.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy had a list. **  
**

He had always thought he was the most important person in the world, even more than his father, since Draco was the one that will inherit Lucius’ legacy. He had thought friends should fawn over him, with praises readied at all times. And Draco, as all teenagers had at one point or another, fantasized about what his future significant other would be like. Though in Draco’s case, what they _should_ be like. Anything on Draco’s list that was labeled as “a must” was something Draco would never give in.

This was Draco’s list: 

  1. Handsome (A must)
  2. Rich (A must)
  3. Clever (A must)
  4. Indulgent of Draco (A must)
  5. Accepts Draco’s humor (A must)
  6. Spoils Draco (A must)
  7. Dotes on Draco (A must)
  8. Thought the world of Draco (A must)
  9. Affectionate (A must)
  10. From a good family (A must)



A lot of these Draco guarded fiercely close to himself, unwilling to be made fun of if anyone knew. The summer of his fourteenth year, Draco had a brief fling with a boy in Italy. But it fizzled out not four weeks later. The boy hadn’t met all of Draco’s (NON-NEGOTIABLE) requirements, and perhaps Draco hadn’t met his, too.

Then Draco turned fifteen, and he thought he had all the time in the world to keep looking. Then he had no time at all.

He realized although most people had a list of their dream SO, seldom do those came true. Draco was no exception. But somehow, at age twenty-six, Draco suddenly found himself with the liberty to do what he thought he could never have, but before he started looking, he didn’t have to anymore.

This was Harry Potter’s list:

  1. Someone that loves him.



Draco Malfoy kissed Harry like he was the only one that mattered. He was taller, so he covered Harry when they hugged. Draco bought fresh blueberries every Sunday at the market because Harry liked them. He folded Harry into his arms whenever they were still for over ten seconds. He took Harry’s occasional macabre humor with good grace and returned with an equally sharp barb as it Harry’s was dark. No one but Harry thought Draco was handsome, but Harry thought the world of him, and that made Harry liked him even more. Harry had trouble initiating affection, but always latched onto his partner when he received them. Draco glowed when Harry wouldn’t let go, then he would kiss Harry and let Harry melt into him. Draco Malfoy made Harry feel loved.

Draco Malfoy’s list (Updated ver.):

  1. Handsome (He is)
  2. Rich (Draco thinks so? Who cares)
  3. Clever (Definitely)
  4. Indulgent of Draco (More than Draco thinks he deserves)
  5. Accepts Draco’s humor (Yes)
  6. Spoils Draco (He says he doesn’t but he does)
  7. Dotes on Draco (Like a mother hen)
  8. Thought the world of Draco (for reasons still unknown)
  9. Affectionate (He has the emotional range of a block but it’s okay, Draco can be this for the both of us)
  10. From a good family (Draco likes everyone but Ronald)
  11. Harry Potter (A must)




	4. Chapter 4

Ron groaned as Harry read a note from Malfoy with a blissed expression.

“Mate, just ask him out,” Ron rubbed his eyes, though it looked more like he was jamming his fingers into them. “It’s been years.”

“No it hasn’t!” Harry said.

“Just because you only realized your big gay infatuation last week doesn’t change the fact that it’s been there for years.” Ron slumped in his seat. “Just put us out of the misery. More importantly, put Malfoy out of his misery.”

“I don’t even know how I would go about it,” Harry said. 

“Merlin, just say it!” Ron said. “Say, like, hey, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I kinda like you, so do you want to go on a date sometimes?”

“Yeah, okay.” That really didn’t sound that hard. Harry could do that. 

A chair scraped. Ron and Harry turned around to see a very pale, very still Malfoy. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ron mumbled.

Harry jumped up. “Mal — ”

Malfoy took a big step back. His back hitting the door and he turned, as though in shock the door was there. Then he turned back again, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. 

“I suppose — ” Malfoy started, then nothing more came out. Harry had never in the last five years seen him speechless. 

“Harry!” Ron hissed. “Tell him!”

Harry startled out of his stupor. “It’s not — ”

“Why would I need to be told anything?” Malfoy cut him off. “It seems fairly straightforward to me. I was going to ask if you two are going to the pub, but I see you have plans. I will let the others know.”

“What?” Harry said. “We don’t!”

“Just stop it, Potter,” Malfoy pressed his fingertips just below his eyes, then strode out with his face lowered.

Harry stared after him, still very much sweating and cold at the same time.

Suddenly, a burst of pain exploded in his backside. Harry yelped and turned. 

Ron was still pointing his wand at him. “For fuck’s sake, why are you still here?” Then he waved his wand and Harry was thrown out of the office.

Harry careened through several cubicles before landing at someone’s feet. He groaned and looked up.

Malfoy was staring at him with a frown.

Harry scrambled to get up, but Malfoy pushed him, and Harry’s legs gave away. He collapsed again, because his ankle hurts and also there was a Malfoy across Harry’s lap.

Before Harry could make sense of — well, all this — Malfoy’s lips were on him. Hot and wet and gasping, Harry’s face tilted back at a normally uncomfortable angle but now it only felt good because it meant Malfoy was raising on him, kissing him deeper. Harry palmed Malfoy’s hips, like he’d been dreaming of doing, and he surged up whenever Malfoy took a breath. Malfoy sank down whenever Harry made a noise. They moved against the floor and wall. The hands on Harry’s face felt big and unyielding, like it was a second away from molding into Harry’s skin; which Harry would gladly allow, since that probably meant Malfoy would keep kissing him.

When they snapped apart with a smack, Harry could be at wand point and still unable to tell you what his own name was. Malfoy pressed forward again, lips on the corner of Harry’s gasping mouth. 

“I’m just going to throw my hat in the ring,” Malfoy said lowly. “And we’ll see who wins you.”

Harry shuddered. “Oh, god,” he groaned, arms circling around Malfoy’s waist. “Ron didn’t actually ask me out.” 

Malfoy stilled, then pulled back to look at Harry incredulously.

“He’s dating Hermione!” Harry said. “You know that! There’s literally no one in this ‘ring’.”

Malfoy huffed. “Well, I thought it was likely the three of you might have an arrangement.”

“Just for the record, this isn’t against either of them or the kind of relationship,” Harry said. “But, ew, gross.”

Malfoy started to pout.

“What?” Harry pinched him. “ _Why_ do you look disappointed?”

“I admit I was rather keen on the idea of winning you over against thousand of competitors, you know, after I got over the feeling that the whole world has ended and I’m being eaten alive.” 

“Maybe we can go to a club tonight,” Harry said. “Then you can glare at anyone who flirts with me.”

“Hmm,” Malfoy wrapped his arms around Harry’s shoulders. “That sounds like a perfect first date.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Husband!”

Harry grinned and Ron groaned. “Can you tell him to stop that?” Ron begged.

Harry laughed, “Yes, Draco?”

Draco appeared in the doorway. “The toaster is misbehaving again.”

“Maybe it’s because you suck,” Ron mumbled, and yelped when a slice of bread hit him in the back of his head. 

Draco dropped into Harry’s lap with a big pout on his face, “Husband,” he said, looking at Harry from underneath his eyelashes. “Your friend is making fun of me.”

Ron glared and Harry laughed — he’d been doing that a lot lately — (Probably since Draco said yes to marrying you,” Hermione said when someone pointed it out.)

And Draco hadn’t stopped calling Harry “husband” since the wedding. 

Harry couldn’t help but press a kiss to Draco’s flushed cheeks. He knew how much Harry enjoyed being called “husband” as well.

Ron grumbled, “Shouldn’t have convinced you two to get hitched.”


	6. Chapter 6

When they passed the non-magical pet shop, Harry saw the guinea pigs through the glass and said to them, “Did you know it’s illegal to own only one guinea pig in Switzerland?” **  
**

“Huh?” Albus said.

“They need a companion to be happy, so the law requires you to have two.” 

“Wow,” James said. “I don’t think anyone here cares.”

Harry huffed. “Who doesn’t like animal facts?”

“I think it’s interesting, Harry,” Scorpius said diplomatically. 

“Thank you.” Harry seemed to genuinely appreciate it. “At least someone does.”

“I like it too, dad!” Lily insisted from the side. “I like that they don’t let animals be lonely.”

“Me, too.” Harry smiled at her. “Helping someone from loneliness is one of the best things you can do for a person.”

Like how you saved father? Scorpius wanted to ask, but he was anxious that it might come out as sniping.

“Ugh,” Albus rolled his eyes. “I want to see the market!”

“We have to get your school stuff,” Harry said. “Then the three of you are going to your mother.”

“Dad — ”

“Come on, Albus,” Scorpius said. “There’re too many people today. We can get all our stuff and come back in a few days when the rush died down.”

“Yeah, alright,” Albus conceded, even though Harry said the same thing the first time Albus mentioned it. Scorpius met Harry’s eyes over the top of Albus’ head and the man looked exasperated. 

“Do you think I can pay you to babysit Albus?” Harry asked Scorpius. 

Scorpius grinned, flushed. 

They made their trip to every shop they needed, second time as this particular group. People gave them curious looks, and Scorpius belated realized this would be the first time the Potter-Malfoy children showed up together in public after Harry and his father’s wedding. Something Scorpius had trouble thinking as “significant” when it felt like they’d been married since Scorpius was six years old. Though in actuality, Harry and his father had only gotten together after he started Hogwarts. Scorpius had been very confused at the family dinner where Harry awkwardly held Draco’s hand and told the kids that they were together and _I hope that’s okay. Draco and I wouldn’t do anything if even one of you weren’t fine with it —_

James had said, “does that mean we’re only going to get one Birthday or Christmas present from you guys now?” and Lily smacked him, before turning to them with anxious brown eyes and said, “wait, are we?”

Scorpius’ father had laughed and hugged Lily in a rare show of public affection. Harry had looked at Draco in the same tender way he had been looking at him for years that even now Scorpius continued to be confused as to why it took them so long.

Maybe he just didn’t understand love yet, as the group made their way down Diagon Alley until it was dusk and Scorpius’ father was standing outside of the Leaky waiting for them. Draco was carrying a bag full of pastries from the family’s favorite bakery. James practically buried his face into the bag and Lily screamed at him to get his “gross oily face out of it” which prompted James to flush and snap back. 

Scorpius took it upon himself to diffuse the situation because he could tell when Harry missed Draco. He left his parents to talk about whatever it is a couple talked about (which was a lot of “Do we have tea left?” “You have that meeting tomorrow, right? When will you be home?” “I hope Weasley isn’t going to make that Lemon cake. I might actually have to hex him if he does. I won’t let you stop me this time!”)

But then Harry was taking the three to Ginny’s and Scorpius had to go to Mamie’s (Narcissa refused to be called grandmother). So they part ways there with Albus trying his best to cajole Harry so he would agree to let him go with Scorpius (“Narcissa loves me! I’m the only Potter she likes!”) and Draco was still laughing as they walked off.

When they passed the non-magical pet shop, his father saw the guinea pigs through the glass and said to Scorpius, “Did you know it’s illegal to own only one guinea pig in Switzerland?”

And Scorpius wondered when Harry told his father this, because there was no way his father would know this random piece of guinea pigs information. Did they pass by the shop together, just the two of them, as they were when all of the kids were at Hogwarts? Did Harry grin at the pets before turning to Draco and telling him that? Did his father rolled his eyes or arched his brow at the words, or the more likely thing, and said, “That’s lovely” because his father knew about loneliness more than most.

Did he smiled at Harry like the way he was smiling at the fluffy animals right now, and Scorpius wondered if his father thought about Harry whenever he thought about guinea pigs.

Scorpius didn’t understand love of this variety yet, but he thought wanting to share something trivial but wonderful with someone for no other reason other than it was wonderful, and have that someone keep it close enough to share with his son, appealed to him more than grand gestures and sensational love. Scorpius didn’t really need much. After his mother passed away, he just wanted his father to not be lonely. For him to have someone to share the most unimportant things with. Someone that _wanted_ to share with him. Someone that didn’t cling to him, but missed him when they were apart. 

Scorpius had known since a long time ago that that person was Harry. 

Scorpius smiled up at his father, wide, “Really? That’s wicked.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was born after seeing [this post](https://dracobaby.tumblr.com/post/190085178255/im-a-simple-woman-i-like-fanfictions-where-harry)

“I told you not to get drunk, Potter,” Draco snapped. “None of your usual cohorts are here so of course I’ll get sacked with the job of taking you home because ‘oh, but, Malfoy! You’re the only one here allowed into Harry’s wards?’ as if it wasn’t required for Auror partners! Not because I’m one of your ‘I’ll trust my drunk ass with you’ friends! God, Potter, are you _listening_?”

“I’m trying very, very, very very hard not to,” Harry mumbled, slumped against Draco. 

“Good god, did you eat something before drinking two bottles of tequila?”

“Had a cookie,” Harry said. “Choco-lay.”

“ _Chocolate_?”

“That’s what ah said.”

Draco made a noise. “Whatever, not like your usual accent is any better. Come _on_ , Potter! You have to help me help you walk!”

“I can’t,” and that made Harry want to tear up for some reason. “My legs isn’t … aren’t … doesn’t working.”

Draco looked like he wanted to throw up from hearing that sentence. “Well, _I_ can’t carry you. I’m a lean man! I have delicate limbs, I’ll have you know.”

“Then why are you an Auror?” Harry slurred.

“That is neither here nor there,” Draco said. “Ugh, fine, I’ll try to carry you, but if you’re too heavy I’ll just have to leave you here. I won’t levitate you while you’re pissed, you will most certainly puke on me out of spite! I won’t have it.”

Harry let out a series of gargled affirmative noises.

“Ugh, come here.” Draco crouched so Harry could put his arm across Draco’s shoulder while keeping a steadying hand on Harry’s back. Once Harry made more noises (indicating he had a firm grip), Draco bent to put his arm behind Harry’s knees.

There was a beat of silence as Harry sighed into the warm and nice-smelling crook of Draco’s neck. Everything was nice at that moment. Warm and curled and against someone strong enough to carry him home.

Draco’s voice was small when he spoke again. “Potter, good god, how much do you weigh?”

Harry huffed a laugh, “I’m not that heavy, fuck you.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Draco started walking, tucking Harry closer to him. “You’re ridiculous light.”

“No, ‘m not,” Harry said. “All the physical… thing, test, bu-me test says I’m average.” 

“BMI,” Draco sounded exasperated. That exasperation made Draco’s chest puffed out wonderfully under Harry’s fingers. “I don’t trust that shit. If I can carry you like this, you’re too light.”

“Maybe you’re just strong,” Harry said,

Draco snorted. “Definitely not.”

Harry didn’t remember getting home, but they mustn’t have apparated because Harry didn’t throw up at all. When he woke the next morning, his mouth felt clean and a vial of hangover potion was neatly within reach. 

Draco was drinking tea when Harry walked into his kitchen.

“Thanks for last night,” Harry said. “It’s nice not having to throw up on the way home.”

“Like you need to lose more body mass,” Draco said crossly.

Harry sighed. “It’s nothing. I’m not in bad shape or anything. Don’t worry about it.”

Draco gasped indignantly. “I am not!”

Harry snorted. “Is that why there is a full spread of breakfast here?”

The look Draco gave the table full of pastries, fruits, cold cuts and eggs was murderous “My house-elves are the ones worried about your weight, or lack thereof.”

“Of course,” Harry conceded easily enough. He picked up a piece of sliced mango (“Use a fork, you barbarian!” Draco screeched.) and popped it into his mouth, soft and sweet, not unlike the man that brought it, no matter what most people would say. 

“I didn’t know your house-elves knew I like mangoes,” Harry said. 

“They’re house-elves,” Draco said, still crossly. 

Harry sat down — next to Draco, earning him a look. But Harry ignored it and start tucking in. It was true he didn’t eat regular meals, but it wasn’t a conscious act. It was just a habit he never kicked. It never bothered him and all his friends were used to it.

But Harry ate, because he saw the way Draco stole glances every now and then, making sure Harry was eating. And also perhaps because Harry remembered the way Draco’s palm tightened at Harry’s ribs last night, and the way Draco frowned while feeling them. And maybe more because Harry remembered how nice it was to be held by Draco and Harry would like to have someone think it was nice to be held by him as well — and maybe Harry was still a little drunk and dazed because he was rambling and Draco was here with food and worry — and — and … 

And Harry laid his head on Draco’s shoulder when he finished, heavy with things, and Draco wound a loose arm around Harry, tucking himself closer. 

Then, eyeing at the still full table (elf magic), and nuzzling Draco’s bony shoulder, Harry said, “You should eat more.”

“Oh, shut up,” Draco said.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this was born after seeing[this amazing art](https://cibeewastaken.tumblr.com/post/190947406972/what-are-you-doing-here-potter-getting-you)

There was only one part of the Manor that Draco could slip to and from undetected. The house-elves didn’t mind. It was small and damp and was made so no sounds could go out because his ancestors didn’t want to hear their servants’ cries. Now his family’s captors wouldn’t be able to hear Lee Jordan’s cheerful mockings of them, that which still made Draco’s palms sweat with anxiety.  
  
Draco tuned in every time, because he hoped one day they would have Potter on there, and Draco could just hear his voice, just once more; of something other than a curse yelled out in a bathroom. Draco fantasized about Potter — a suicidal act when Voldemort was raking through your head anytime he fancied. But Snape was useful for one thing, and that was keeping the thing that was keeping you alive far away. So far Potterwatch ended with not a sigh about Potter, and Draco would creep back to his room, unlocked his window, and leave a sliver of opening in his bed drapes so he could see it. And Draco would spend his night, as he did every night, fantasizing. Potter would show up. And Draco would pad over to him and say _hello, how are you?_ Potter would reply, Fine, and you? And the conversation would go on. _Good, good. I ate with a dead body rotting in front of me today. Some of the blood got on my food and I couldn’t eat anymore._ What a war, yeah? _Yeah, why are you here?_ Why, to take you away, of course. I live in a great, bright house with clean food and no one there can read your mind or torture people; do you want to come?   
  
Then Draco would ask the most important question, _that depends; will you be in that great, bright house too?_  
  
And fantasy-Potter would say, of course, your room will be next to mine. We share a bathroom.   
  
_That’s inconvenient,_ fantasy-Draco said. _But I suppose I can suffer it._  
  
Real-Draco, however, could only stare at his unlocked window until his eyes started to drop; until he knew no one would come that day. Sleepiness and hopelessness was not a very nice combination, but it certainly made for an interesting crying session.   
  
Draco was so prepared to be saved by Harry Potter, that he didn’t know he’d have to end up saving Harry Potter instead. His father was a coward and his aunt was a sadist, and Draco was related to both of them by blood. So when he was staring at a tumescent Potter and a scared Granger, should he have turned him in like his father would have or tortured her like his aunt would have? Draco wasn’t sure what it meant for him when he did neither.  
  
Later, when his mother was cleaning his face, full of lacerations from a falling chandelier, she said, “I would do anything for you, darling, even if it I would get hurt.” And Draco thought back to merely hours ago, when he should have turn Potter in to save his family, and thought maybe in the end, he was like his mother.  
  
That night, face stinging from tears dripping into untreated cuts, because his aunt forbade his mother from healing Draco, Draco was sitting on his bed in front of the unlocked window, too sad to indulge in his nightly fantasies, when someone pushed it open. “Malfoy!”   
  
Draco thought it was quite mean of his mind to choose this moment to descend into insanity and hallucination. “I’m not in the mood,” Draco told fantasy-Potter.  
  
“Not in the mood for this?” Potter asked incredulously.   
  
“You’re not real,” Draco said. “First of all, you’re floating.”  
  
“I’m standing on my broom,” Potter said. Then Draco padded over to the window to see that Potter really was standing on a broom.   
  
“This isn’t real,” Draco said to the purple wisterias hanging outside, glowing in the moonlight. They were easier to look at than Potter. “The Dark Lord must have killed me.”  
  
“It’s real,” Potter said, sounding not in the least bit annoyed.   
  
That was what Draco was afraid of. “What are you doing here, Potter?” Draco asked. “You escaped, and now you’re back like some kind of knobhead.”  
  
“I’m getting you out of here, Malfoy,” Potter said. “I couldn’t … stand the thought of you here after today. Are you with me? There isn’t time for you to think — this is your chance, if you want it. Are you with me?”  
  
Potter didn’t know, of course he didn’t, that Draco had spent so much time thinking about this. That he’d spent hours listening to any news of him. That Draco only survived this hell because he was thinking about it. Potter looked fake outside of his unlocked window. He looked nothing like fantasy-Potter; who was clean, strong and handsome. Real-Potter was skinny; skin grey from the war; eyes bright from it. This Potter was better: he was real.   
  
“I want it,” Draco said. Potter reached out a hand. Draco grabbed it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a little nsfw

Draco was humming.

Harry stopped in his movement, his cock dragging the skin of Draco’s puffy hole. “What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Draco said. He had his cheek pressed to the pillow, eyes closed. The radio droned on in the background. “Oh, I got distracted by the music.”

“You were listening to the music,” Harry deadpanned. His fingers on Draco’s hips dug in harder.

“That is the general function of music, yes.” Draco wiggled his arse. “Why’d you stop?”

“I stopped because you started singing,” Harry said.

“I was not,” Draco arched his back, rolled his arse. “Not my fault you were going too slow.”

What happened next Harry really had no clear memory. When his breathing calmed, Draco still had his arse in the air, though now it was trembling with the occasional violent spasms interspersed in as his hole leaked cum and lube. Draco had his mouth hanging open, tongue peeking past his bottom lip like it didn’t have the strength to move after Harry sucked on it. 

“What was the song you were humming to?” Harry asked, massaging Draco’s waist.

Draco blinked up at Harry. His face wet with sweat, mouth wet with spit and eyes wet with the smug brightness of getting his way. “I have no clue.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From an anon ask

Draco is more the sort to let other people deal with all the wedding preparation. Maybe he has it all thought out since he was young and his mother knew what he wants and that was that. Harry isn’t convinced and he spends _so much time_ at Narcissa’s just asking how things are and trying to help but it’s all taken care of and the more Harry doesn’t help the more he thinks everything will go wrong -

So Draco kidnaps his fiancé from his mother’s one day when Harry was fussing over napkins and whisks him off to in the middle of nowhere in Scotland. A pre-wedding honeymoon, Draco calls it. This town has a strict no magic law so don’t even think about running, Potter.

But Harry is not able to enjoy the moors or the foxes in the moors or the fresh milk that delivers every day. He keeps trying to find payphones even though Narcissa doesn’t even have a phone. Until one day Draco finally snaps and asks why the hell was Harry so anxious about things going wrong.

“Because they do!” Harry says. “Good things always do! I keep imagining something going wrong at the wedding, or you not liking the wedding and realizing us is a mistake, that we’re not alike at all - ”

“I hate to be in that head of yours,” Draco replies. “All those doubts and where do they go? I am marrying you because I want to marry you, not because of the stupid wedding.” Draco stands up and puts on his cloak. Then throws Harry’s jacket at him. “We’re going.”

“Where?”

“To the church,” Draco says.

“It’s hours away,” Harry says. “You said we can’t use magic in this part of the country.”

“Tsk, tsk,” Draco opens the door to the vast purple heathers and one narrow, winding grey path. “I thought you wanted to marry me.”

So Harry and Draco walk like they never did before. The wind on the moors is strong enough that Harry snatches Draco’s hand and holds it tight. They walk down the path together in their white cloak and black leather jacket. Robins fly around and rabbits dart past them. The church isn’t in town. It’s on a down on the right-hand side of the path. They would have to stray from the path and up to get to it. Draco says he wore the wrong shoes and his feet are hurting. Harry, panting, looks at the last few paces to the gate, picks Draco up and groans until they reach the church. Draco refuses to get down. 

The priest opens the door and looks at them. Harry is busy catching his breath so Draco says for him, “One marriage, please.”

The church is empty and the stained glass window is plain enough that all the lights that come in are golden. Harry and Draco (who finally relent and got to his feet) hold their freezing hands as they stand at the altar. There is no sound except for the vows. The priest drones in the background, on mute. Harry and Draco are both sweating and cold at the same time, feet aching, no rings, no friends, no mothers, no wedding. 

_I do_ and _of course I do_ later, they kiss as the priest bows his head. Harry thought about this moment before, and in his mind, their kiss is always followed by cheers and claps that makes his back sweat with anxious joy. There is none of that now, so Harry keeps kissing Draco until the colds of the stones start seeping in. A dove flutters outside the window. 

The priest walks them to the gate and wishes them a happy life. Harry is still holding onto Draco’s hand as they make their way back. They walk into the moor this time. Heather bushes stir in the wind, pushing them forward like waves.

Then when the church is gone from sight, Draco chokes and Harry turns to see him crying. Harry panics and folds him into a hug.

“We’re married,” Draco says through noisy sobs. “I was so scared it wouldn’t happen.” 

Harry laughs and calls Draco a hypocrite - because honestly! And he breaks off to the moors and plucks a wildflower. Draco is red-faced with anger when Harry returns. “I can’t believe you left me crying!” Draco screeches.

Harry winds the flower over Draco’s finger over and over again until it was sturdy. A white and yellow flower. 

Harry brings Draco’s hand up and kisses the knuckles, then the fingertips. It smells spicy from the heathers. Draco ducks his head and Harry raises, kisses him. A rabbit comes to sniff them, then gets bored after long minutes of no movements and takes off. The whistle of the winds drowns their breaths. Finally, Harry pulls back and says, “We’ll tell them we’re married at the wedding.”

Draco laughs.


	11. Chapter 11

“So, I know the two of you have been waiting for me to choose a best man,” Harry said.  
  
“Not really,” Hermione replied. “We know perfectly well it’s Ron.”  
  
“I will throw a fit if it’s not me,” Ron admitted.   
  
“Well, actually,” Harry started. (“Oh my god, he’s going to choose Neville. Hold me, Hermione,” Ron said.) “I was thinking...I want the both of you.”  
  
Ron grinned, then stopped, “Wait.”

“Me, too?” Hermione said with a tremble. 

“It should be the people who mean the most to the groom.” Harry murmured. “There is no choosing between the two of you.” Harry hugged Hermione when she started to cry. “Also, I thought it’d be better to call you guys the ‘groom’s crew’? This men only thing sucks.”  
  
“That’s awful,” Ron grinned. “Malfoy’s okay with this?”  
  
Right on cue, the door burst open and Draco sauntered in, arms raised. He was followed by Pansy and Blaise. “Behold,” Draco sang. “My ‘groom’s bitches.’”  
  
“I hate weddings,” Blaise said. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw ish

_ Harry  _ was in the middle of some brutal spanking, and  _ Draco  _ was losing himself in the middle of some enthusiastic “Yes, god. Yes! More! More! More!” that descended into incoherent rambling when Harry unceremoniously stuffed three fingers into Draco’s softened, wet hole. It was at this moment, when babbling and spanking and fingering were going down like a well-practiced orchestra when someone knocked on their door.

“Harry? Draco?” Teddy’s voice came from behind the closed door.

Draco choked on the end of a “Fuck me,” and Harry’s left hand stilled in the air.

“What is it, Teds?”

“I heard sounds that sound like when Mrs. Wells spanks kids who were being bad,” Teddy said. “Are you spanking cousin Draco? Are you two angry?”

Harry’s cheeks burned almost as bright as Draco’s arse and Draco buried his face into his hands, groaning. How was he supposed to explain that he  _ was  _ spanking Draco but for reasons  _ very far from  _ anger? “Don’t worry, Teds, we’re not angry. Draco and I are just. . . playing a game,” Harry said lamely. Draco bit Harry’s thighs for that.

“Yes,” Draco said in a strangled tone. “A game. No need to be concerned. Also, who is this Mrs. Wells that is hitting kids? You need to tell me about her later, okay?”

“Okay,” Teddy said. “Can I play to—”

“No!” Both of them shouted. “No, no,” Harry hurriedly said. “This is only for grown-ups. We’ll be out in a sec, all right? Draco will make us some hot chocolate. Do you want to wait for us in the kitchen?”

Thankfully at the promise of hot chocolate, Teddy promptly forgot about spankings and grown-up games. As soon as his footsteps drifted away, Draco climbed off Harry’s lap and they both dropped to the bed, staring at the ceiling, not needing to look to know that there was now an absence of erections.

“I want to die,” Draco said.

“We still need to make hot chocolates and get that teacher fired,” Harry said.

“Afterwards, then.”

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is nsfw

Remember the time when you thought you were straight?

Oh shut up, Potter

I just think it’s funny! How you tried so hard to convince me — I didn’t even ask you in the first place, mind you — and you were looking at me like you were  _ begging. _

I do not beg

You begged later that night, didn’t you?

  
  


* * *

  
  


It was a night they both thought of fondly.

  
  


* * *

Harry had been out publicly for almost a year by the time he ran into Draco at the pub. They weren’t exactly friendly, but Draco had looked so off that night Harry just — stayed. Draco went on and on about all his girlfriends, all his paramours, how good it was to have beautiful women with him. Harry would be offended, since he’d met no shortage of people trying to convince him the wonders of the female bodies after coming out. But Draco didn’t seem like he was trying to convince Harry. He had a wild look in his eyes. He stumbled on as though he was trying to convince himself.

So eventually, Harry said, “Well, why don’t you try it and find out?”

Draco had looked at him with huge eyes. His breath hitching.

Harry let Draco topped first — easing him into it, and Harry could see why Draco was able to keep women around him for long. Even some of his best one-night stands didn’t quite hold a candle to Draco.

But the kicker came when Harry sank into Draco later. Whereas Draco was composed and meticulous with Harry before, Draco descended into an incoherent and trembling mess once Harry started moving. Multiple times found Harry asking if Draco wanted to pause, to slow down, to stop? But each time Draco shook his head and sobbed “No, no, no, no, no —” like stopping was the last thing he wanted.

“God, please...”

Harry laughed lowly, “I think you’re begging the wrong person.”

Harry left a dragging kiss on Draco’s cheek, and as beside himself as Draco was, he still couldn’t help the loll of his head onto Harry’s shoulder. The way his eyes were hazy and unfocused with need.

That was the first time he called Harry by his name, and he didn’t stop for the rest of the night.

The rest of the night — something Harry would never forget, or remember without the accompany of tightening in the stomach. The way they catnapped, only to be woken up by Draco nudging Harry, looking at him with questions in his eyes. As though he didn’t know how to initiate it between two men. Each time he chose to have Harry in him. By the time crickets were replaced by birds, they were both so over-sensitive that it took nearly an hour to come. Draco, with his hands on Harry’s knees, the sweat on his skin cooled and soaked more than thrice over; riding Harry with his face tilted heavenward, reached his climax silently, with only a violent jerk that went through his whole body to show for it. Harry didn’t come, not because he didn’t want to, not because his cock was so raw it brought pleasure like pain down to his toes. But the way Draco’s eyes found his, bright and flushed, Harry could do no other thing than reaching up to kiss Draco; and Draco leaned down, like sunset meeting the horizon.

It was no more than a week before Harry saw Draco again after that.

Harry stopped in his track when he saw Draco sitting close to a man at the bar. A possessive hand on the small of Draco’s back. Draco turned to look at the man but saw Harry by the door, and he was still looking when Harry turned around and left.

Later that night, Draco showed up at Harry’s doorstep. Harry couldn’t look at him, wondering if Draco had come straight from another man’s bed.

“Pansy thought I should take advantage of the newfound understanding of myself,” Draco said quietly.

“Okay,” Harry replied, looking at a flowerpot by his steps.

“He was disappointed when I turned out to be very indifferent.” Harry could feel Draco’s eyes on him. “He asked if I had someone on my mind. I told me I don’t know if I deserve my mind to be occupied.” Draco touched the hem of Harry’s sweater. “. . . do I?”

Draco bit his lips. Questions in his eyes. Questions that got answered when Harry took Draco’s hands and kissed him. They never kissed anyone else after that.

* * *

Draco went on his knees for the first time in his life that night. Harry complained about it still, years later, that it was  _ his idea _ and then Draco had just stolen it without even taking his coat off. Draco would laugh and tug Harry close, and said, I certainly wouldn’t mind if you try to convince me some more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anon prompted on tumblr: 8th year fic were harry rubs draco's stomach for him cause it hurts a lot and he doesnt want to be around people? :3

“Is this an occurrence every year? Do you gorge yourself with Easter candies and cream-filled chocolate eggs? And I’ve never seen anyone but Ron and Ginny eat that much cake. Draco, you ate an entire cake, plus two bags of Cadbury Mini Eggs—”

“Oh my god,” Draco moaned into Harry’s neck. “Every word out of your mouth makes me want to puke.”

Harry adjusted his arm that was squeezed between the armrest and his head, leaning back further so Draco could lie on top of him. His other arm went around Draco’s waist and rested on the squishy tummy. Harry hadn’t known he would like it so much. The feeling of it underneath his palm made him slightly tender with how soft Draco’s body had gotten since the start of the year. 

“You’re being weird,” Draco mumbled.

“Just patting your chocolate baby.”

“Ugh, shut your face hole.” Draco groaned. Then louder since no one was in the common room to be disturbed. Despite the rainy day, everyone went out to the Quidditch game. Draco had been too sick to go, and in the rare show of selfless generosity, he had told Harry to go.

The thought of leaving never entered Harry’s mind.

“You’re missing Quidditch for me,” Draco had said miserably, face down on the sofa and complexion slightly green. “I don’t want you to miss Quidditch for me.”

Harry had sat down and arranged Draco’s head onto his lap. “I’ve been missing Quidditch for you since I was sixteen.”

And now there they were, on the sofa together. Harry gently rubbing Draco’s stomach as Draco made sad, sniffling sounds. Sounds that made Harry wanted to call him _darling_.

“You know who could help,” Harry started. 

“No,” Draco snapped. “No, no!”

But Harry never cared about Draco’s decisions when Draco was making bad decisions. “Dobby?”

Draco wailed loudly as Dobby popped up right next to their sofa. “Dobby, what do you use to do to help Draco when he’s like this?” Harry asked.

“Dobby is familiar with this state of Young Master Draco,” Dobby said.

“This has never happened before!” Draco screeched.

“Dobby is the expert,” Dobby told Harry. “Dobby used to make Young Master a cup of ginger tea! Especially on Easter Sunday, Easter Monday, Young Master’s birthday, Litha, Halloween, Christmas Eve, Yule, and—” 

“That’s enough!” Draco said. 

“Young Master Draco shouldn’t talk to Dobby like that, not when Dobby still has pictures of Young Master Draco dressed up as a unicorn when—”

“That’s enough!” Draco said again, now very clearly panicking.

Harry was halfway off the sofa and on the carpet laughing. Draco pinched Harry’s thigh, but Harry only yelped a little and continued to laugh. Then Draco started moaning about the unfairness and disrespect of some people, how he was in pain, anguish! Horror! And his boyfriend would rather scoff at him than make him feel better, the injustice—! 

Dobby Disapparated back to the kitchen and started on the tea when it was clear that Harry Potter and Young Master Draco had forgotten about him and everything else once again. Dobby also made some hearty vegetable broth. Something savory always made Draco feel better when he ate himself into tummy aches. 

Harry had stopped laughing and Draco had stopped whining when Dobby popped back into the Eighth Year common room. Instead, they were now on the carpet together; Harry pressing soft kisses repeatedly to the corner of Draco’s smile. Harry’s palm, back on Draco’s stomach, circling gently.

“I’ll know to stop you from eating too many sweets in the future,” Harry said into his kisses.

“I like to see you try,” Draco said. He looked as though Harry was making Draco sore from love.

Dobby quietly placed the tray of food just beside the fireplace and sneaked away.


	15. Chapter 15

It happened during one of their common room parties. Seamus had decided to give Draco a taste of his own medicine by scaring him with a Dementors costume. Draco was fast asleep on Harry’s shoulder, head lolled back and mouth opened after one too many drinks. Harry rolled his eyes at Seamus adjusting his robes (“In position! Wake him up, Harry!”) but dutifully went to shake Draco awake. He went along since just that morning, Draco had tricked him into drinking tomato juice (something Harry loathed more than Voldemort), which caused him to spit it all over Ginny across from him, which ended in her hexing both of them—the point was, Harry still had to get Draco back.

Harry started to shake Draco more violently, and made his voice frantic, “Draco! Wake up! Draco! There’s a Dementor!” 

Draco lurched and snapped his eyes open. Seamus flapped his cloak and made whooshing noises. Ron was behind him with a camera ready. 

Draco saw Seamus, gasped and—

—threw an arm over Harry, pushing him back and putting himself between Seamus and Harry. 

The flashbulb went off and Ron said, “Wait.”

Seamus took off his hood. His eyebrows had vacated his forehead. Hermione’s eyes had left her book. Someone made a cooing noise. And Ginny, lips pursed, seemed satisfyingly impressed. 

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off Draco, and watched him flushed red. 

“You!” he screeched. “You—and you!” He whirled around to jab a finger into Harry’s chest.

“You tried to keep me safe,” Harry said, awed.

“No, I wasn’t!” Draco insisted. “I was trying to—to—”

Ron held up the newly developed picture. He looked just as shocked. “You were going to protect Harry!”

“It’s his Boggart! I just! I knew that a baby he is about it! What!” Draco said. Harry could practically hear the exclamation marks.

“ _Draco_ ,” Harry said, reaching for him. Draco jumped up, saw that everyone at the party was looking at them, flushed three-shade darker, and sprinted out of the common room. But not before turning back and screamed, “I’m am _so_ breaking up with you!” at Harry.

Harry was left gaping after Draco, and got slapped back to senses by Ginny. He rubbed his shoulder and glared at her. 

“If you don’t get a move on, he’s going to make good on that promise.” Ginny pushed him towards the door. Harry jumped up.

The whole common room burst into cheers, with the mix of Hermione’s “Remember the protection charms, Harry!” and Ron’s “ _Ugh_ , he knows, Hermione!” and Harry was running out the door, laughing and on his way to win back his knight in shining armor


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I’ve never written trans characters before, and although I did research beforehand, if there is anything I got wrong or if I have written anything disrespectful, let me know and I will change it. Thank you to Shahar and Solana from the Drarry Discord that did a sensitivity read over of this, and   
> Huge thanks to [Pineau_noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir) for the beta! thank you all!
> 
> Professor drarry, coming out, getting together & established relationship, smitten Harry
> 
> Also: brief misgendering (not maliciously, toward the beginning), off-screen transphobic comment (toward the end, it is not explicitly written out), discussion of pregnancy.

Draco decided to come out because he dreamt of his mother. 

It was on his thirty-fifth birthday, when he had gone out to Hogsmeade with Harry, Pansy, Greg and Granger the night before and drank themself silly. Weasley had moaned and cried about wanting to come but it was his turn to babysit. Draco had gotten so pissed that Harry had to carry him all the way back to Hogwarts and shushed him constantly when they got to the professor’s quarters because Draco had really wanted sing _All About That Bass._ Harry had to help him to bed and Draco had begged Harry to make him a cup of hot chocolate. 

That night he dreamt, as he was wont to do after drinking bottle after bottle of whiskey and falling asleep in that too warm state of being under layers of blankets and a belly full of hot drinks. He dreamt of the memory of sitting beside her bed moments before she died, trying to work up the courage to tell her; almost ran out the door to where Harry was waiting, and asked him for tips on how to be a brave person. But before he could come to any decision, his mother sighed, “I love you, my sweet, brave girl.” And the next moment, Draco had lost his chance. 

He woke up, ten years later, wishing desperately again he could have told his mother. 

Draco told Harry his decision the same day of the dream. Harry sat in the plush armchair in Draco’s room, watched Draco pace about with a cup of piping hot tea cradled in his hands. He listened intently to Draco going on and on, “I just woke up this morning, and I knew I was ready. I mean—okay, even if I am, how will I go about it? Write a public letter? An announcement during breakfast in the Great Hall? No, no, that’s the showman in me talking. Ah—should I ask for the Headmistress’s permission? I—”

Harry only cut him off then. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said. “You can just inform her, if you want.”

Draco softened. Blushed. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, you’re right.” He went and sat down on the other armchair, Harry’s eyes followed him with a fond smile.

“How about in class?” Draco asked.

“That certainly is when you are the most confident.” Harry smiled at him. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“You’re not going to talk me out of it?”

“I would never do that,” Harry said. “But can I ask why now?”

“‘May I ask’,” Draco corrected. 

Harry gave him a look. Draco laughed before talking. “I’m ready. I want to stop hiding. I want to talk about my experience. I want to come out on my own terms, and I don’t want to leave any regret. Merlin, do you remember after the war, the amount of therapy we all did? It wasn’t until years later did I feel like I was healed enough from the war to talk about my gender identity with a professional. We had talked about coming out, or transitioning, and I had said I would like to come out when I’m happy again.”

Harry listened with a happy smile on his face. “You’re happy now,” he said.

Draco reached over and tucked a stray hair behind Harry’s ear. “I was scared of coming out when I told her that, that’s why I said I would only do it when I’m happy again. I had thought I would never be happy again.” He left his hand on Harry’s face. “I’ve been happy for a while now. I’ve been so comfortable with happy, that I needed my mother’s death to remind me at one point, I wasn’t.”

“It sucks that it took so long.”

“It took longer for you,” Draco murmured. Harry just smiled and pressed a kiss to Draco’s palm. 

They allowed the comfortable silence to go on for a bit, but soon Draco started to fidget. “I know I’m hiding it incredibly well, but I am a bit frightened.”

Harry didn’t say, “You don’t have to do it right now if you’re not ready.” Because of course that went without saying. Though he did say, “I’ll be with you through it all.”

Ah, but that was stupid too, because that also went without saying in Draco’s opinion. Harry had always been there for him, throughout the years of teaching apprenticeship in Hogwarts and through studying for their Magical Academic Skills for Educators and through their first classes as professors. Harry was the first person he came out to after his friends in Eighth Year. So, Harry needn’t say he would be with Draco through everything! It was a given—Draco wanted to accuse Harry of saying it just to see Draco blush.

In the end, Draco just muttered a lame, “Thank you.” 

Then all too soon, Harry had to leave for his first class, and he lingered by Draco’s door. “Do you want to take dinner with me in my room? Or your room? Or just, somewhere without a whole school worth of children?” 

Draco knew he was wearing a dopey and besotted grin on his face, but this relationship was new, and he had daydreamed about it for years. As suave and gentlemanly as he had imagined himself in his head, sweeping Harry off his feet with charm, he really couldn’t bring himself to pretend he wasn’t stupidly happy.

“That sounds lovely,” he said. And a grin broke out on Harry’s flushed face too. Draco couldn’t help but press a kiss to Harry’s cheek before sending him on his way.

Draco loved how shy and eager Harry was about this. With sixteen years of friendship under their belt, when Harry asked Draco out a month ago. Harry had been tripping over every word, and it had taken Draco nearly five minutes to figure out Harry was asking him out. 

“Oh,” Draco had said. He had been standing by his door, seeing Harry off like they do almost every night. “Oh!”

Harry had flushed down to his neck. 

“Yes,” Draco had replied in a hurry. “Oh my god—yes.”

“Yeah?”

Draco had nodded, willing his face to stay calm.

“Cool,” Harry had said. Another word choice he picked up from the students. “I’ll—er, I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven, then?” 

“Okay.”

Draco had decided he would stay and watch Harry go, and it was rewarded with Harry stopping every two steps to turn around and look at Draco until he reached the staircase. Draco had listened to Harry’s footsteps fading down the stairs and grinned at nothing. And he had laughed when he heard Harry’s jubilant shout from afar. 

Draco also remembered how later that night, as he finally stumbled back to bed, how he lay there for hours, indulging himself on playing out being Harry’s boyfriend—and berated himself for acting like a teenager. Not that it stopped Draco from doing it. 

When Draco’s daydream entered the “Marriage” chapter, he remembered how Harry always wanted children, and that was like falling into a pit of icy water. Draco tried to shake himself off the tightness, tried to stop himself from imagining his body becoming a reminder of a gender he long left in the past. Draco tried to stifle the nausea.

He could very well just forget about it. They hadn’t even been on their first date yet. Children seemed so far into the future. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave Draco alone. What if it was a deal-breaker for Harry? Draco had loved Harry for so long, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go through a heartbreak Draco knew could be potentially ruining. 

At half-past one, Draco climbed out of his cocoon of blankets and trekked to Harry’s room a few floors below. Harry opened the door in his pajamas and messy hair. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?” Draco said, and wanted to jump off the castle right after the words left his mouth.

The incredulous look on Harry’s face was deserving, Draco supposed. “Is something wrong?” Harry asked, pulling Draco into his warm room.

Draco swallowed. “Do you expect me to carry your child, if this goes somewhere?”

A few seconds went by and Harry remained gaping at Draco. 

“I know some people do it,” Draco continued on. “I know they’re _okay_ with it. But not—not me. I don’t know if I’ll ever go through a transition. Oh, you know that, yes, I forgot I told you that before. I’m happy with myself, but if that means you’ll expect me to carry our children—I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“What is going on?” Harry seemed to be talking to himself. “You do not need to apologize for that! And I—Jesus, are we talking about children? I mean, I’ve thought about it, because I’ve been in lo—ngk, I mean, I always wanted kids—Yes, I know you know! But I never thought about that, Draco. I know you don’t want to. I would never ask that of you!” He sounded distressed. 

They were both panting. “Good,” Draco said. “I just want us to be on the same page.”

“I always wanted to adopt,” Harry said.

“Oh.” Draco looked to the floor. “You never said.”

“I would’ve told you someday.”

“Is today someday?”

“It can be.” Harry smiled softly at Draco, who was now feeling very flustered from being reckless and Gryffindor-like and barging in to demand answers in the middle of the night. 

“I guess it makes sense,” Draco said. “That you would want to love a child that needs it. Ah, is that insensitive of me to say?”

Harry dragged him into a crushing hug. 

***

It took Draco a few days to gather up enough courage. In the end he chose the second-year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class as his first step. While everyone had finished setting up their cauldrons and tools, Draco cleared his throat.

“I need to tell you all something.”

***

The second-years took the news with wide-eyed exhilaration, shouting encouragement and cheers to the point Draco couldn’t hear his own voice anymore. “That’s why I picked them to go first,” Draco told Harry after class, when he came over to ask how it went. “They’re a bunch of sweethearts and I need the ego-boost.” Harry laughed and kissed him.

The seventh-year Slytherin/Gryffindor class was rougher. Some students recoiled, and some of those students looked shamefaced at their own reactions, which made Draco feel better (however slight.) He was more solemn during his speech. When some Gryffindor boys started murmuring, a few Slytherin students glared at them hard enough to shut them up. Draco had to smile a bit at that.

“May we ask some questions, sir?” A Slytherin student asked. 

“Go ahead, Miss Jeffers.”

“Do you see yourself as gay, then?”

“I’ve always been attracted to men,” Draco answered calmly. “And as a man, I identify myself as gay.”

Another student raised their hand. “Was your name always Draco?”

“Yes. My mother picked it, and she had always intended to use it on a boy or a girl.”

“Did you dress differently when you were young, before—er, you know.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the student and he blushed sheepishly. 

“A good thing about wizarding fashion is that robes all generally looked the same for both male and female. I was lucky enough to not experience the hardship Muggle transgender community might face growing up.”

When no more hands were left up in the air, Draco could see it wasn’t the end of confusion for some students. But there was no use to push. Draco smiled at his class, “I’m not any more different than I was before today. You just know more about who I am now. You’ll find that, despite this new knowledge, I am still exactly the same. For example,” Draco tapped his wand and papers appeared in front of each student. “I still like to surprise you with a pop quiz.”

The groans were music to Draco’s ears.

***

The news spread to the whole school by the next day, and breakfast was an anxious ordeal. Draco had made the decision to eat in the Great Hall. Harry’s continuous presence was warm and steady next to him. Harry knew how to deal with being in the spotlight of gossip, and he pulled out all stops to distract Draco from it (i.e., some very heavy making out in the hallway outside of Draco’s room, certainly far too inappropriate at seven o’clock in the morning on a school day). Draco had been preparing for it to happen, but he was still caught off guard when it came.

When it came, Draco had been walking by himself to his next class. He turned around slowly to see who had made the remark. The student didn’t try to hide. He was standing right behind Draco. Everyone around stopped in their tracks, from what the boy had said or to see what would happen, Draco didn’t know. 

The boy sneered at Draco. His friend looked very surprised and appalled. “10 points from Gryffindor,” Draco said. He focused on the disappointment he felt, and not all the other awful feelings that were churning at the base of his throat. 

“ _100_ points from Gryffindor,” someone said from behind. McGonagall strode past Draco and glared down at him. “Plus one-week detention with me, for your ignorance and malice, Mr. Anderson. You should know better. There are transgender students here, and I will not allow this kind of behavior in my school.”

Out of nowhere, Harry appeared next to Draco. “And Mr. Anderson will see me after class today,” he said. “As head of house, I apologize for my student’s behavior, Professor Malfoy.”

Draco nodded, throat thick. Students were gathering around them, but they were looking at Anderson, whose face took on a sickly tinge at the prospect of detention with both the Headmistress and the Boy Who Lived.

“Go to your class, now,” McGonagall said tersely. Anderson scampered off, his friend following. McGonagall turned her gaze onto the students mulling around, who all jumped and started to move.

“I am sorry, Draco,” McGonagall said when all students cleared out. 

“I’m alright, Headmistress.”

“I’ll walk with him,” Harry said, taking Draco’s hand. And McGonagall’s smile showed that she would let this PDA slide just this once.

“I don’t nee—” Draco started.

“I’m not walking you to your classroom because I think you need a bodyguard,” Harry said. “I’m walking _with_ you to your classroom because I missed you.”

Draco hated how easily his mood was improved by that.

Just before parting, Draco squeezed Harry’s hand. “Harry,” Draco said, throat thick and heavy. Harry turned to him inquiringly.

“Educate him,” Draco said. He looked at Harry’s eyes. So honest and good. “Don’t punish him and let him walk away as ignorant before, Harry. Don’t do what our teachers did to us. Teach him.”

Harry cupped Draco’s face. “That was always the plan.”

Draco nodded. He blinked slowly, finally letting the tears fall. Letting them out. It didn’t take more than a few. Harry kissed away each drop, and Draco smiled through it.

“I’ll see you tonight?” Draco asked.

“Yes.” Harry looked delighted, as though they didn’t see each other every other night already. 

Draco gave an amused chuckle. Harry’s gaze lingered on him until the classroom door closed.

***

Draco was just grading his last pile of homework when someone knocked on his office door. “Sir?”

Draco looked up from his grading. It was a third-year Gryffindor. Michael Genson, standing nervously by the door, eyes very wide. An expression so familiar, so mixed with trepidation and hope that for a second Draco thought he was looking at his 13-year-old self. “May I ask you some questions?” Michael said.

Draco put down his quill and moved his grading aside. “Of course,” he smiled. “Tea?”

Michael nodded, sitting down gingerly. Draco gave him a comforting smile and Summoned his best tea leaves.

Hopefully by the end of the chat, Draco could be fortunate enough to find out who Michael truly was. 

  
  



	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [Pineau_noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir) for the beta!

Draco was a brat. 

“What else is new?” Ron said as he helped Harry paint Draco’s study. Draco wanted it a pale green with fern wallpaper, so that was what they were doing. Draco was downstairs, organizing the kitchen with George’s help, because even though he never cooked, he needed everything in a certain place and Harry really just cared so little about jar arrangement and loved Draco too much to not let him have his way. Hermione taught him a spell that put everything back the way Draco had it, so really, Harry didn’t mind letting Draco order their new house the way he wanted.

But he was a brat. 

“Of course he is,” George agreed. Draco had just stomped out of the kitchen, saying that Harry’s family was making fun of him so he was going to work on the bedroom instead. George was laughing so hard when Harry and Ron came in. “He didn’t know how to eat grapes!” he gasped. “That little ferret always had people peel his grapes, oh Merlin, the blank look on his face when he was confronted with the bowl of grapes!”

“Why were you guys talking about grapes?” Ron asked.

“He wanted to bring you guys snacks,” George replied. “Well, bring Harry some. I’m sure he didn’t have you in mind, Ronnie.”

“Charming.”

“If he didn’t like wine, I think he wouldn’t know grapes are purple too.” George continued to laugh.

Harry didn’t care that Draco didn’t know how to eat grapes or that he always got defensive when people pointed out things he didn’t know. Like how Harry was the one working on Draco’s study instead of Draco himself. When Harry found Draco, on the ladder two days ago, paintbrush in his hands and the wall a mess of uneven, clumpy paint; how distressed he was at it. How Harry had asked if he didn’t know how to paint and meant _I’ll do it for you_ , but Draco had taken it as to mean _How can you screw up such a simple task?_ Draco got embarrassed and flustered, and in one of his cat-like moments, pushed the bucket of paint off and over Harry’s head before stomping out. 

Harry had cleaned himself up and started working on Draco’s study. Draco came back later with cups of tea and takeout dinner, sitting with Harry and said sorry.

Draco was a brat, and Harry loved him so much.

“You don’t think I’m a brat, do you?” Draco said with his lips to Harry’s. His arms loosely crossed behind Harry’s head. Harry gripped Draco’s waist and sank into Draco’s kiss. “Your family has been mean to me all day.”

“We’re still here,” Hermione said. Ron was making faces at them, while Arthur rolled his eyes. George said something came up and he needed to go, _now_. Molly yanked him back by the ear and told him to go help his sister in the garden. Draco still had his lips against Harry’s.

Harry was so in love.

“I definitely think you’re a brat,” Harry said softly into the kiss. “Have you forgotten — god, is that a new cologne?”

Draco nodded. Their lips making quiet, wet, smacking noises. “I thought you might like it.”

Harry nodded, too, groaning with it. Wrapping his arms fully around Draco’s waist and finally slanting his mouth over Draco’s. Draco’s hands tangled into his hair, tongue pushing in. He was very needy, but Harry was very giving.

“Ok-ay,” Ron said desperately into the room. “Can we _please_ go? We have to come back tomorrow anyway.”

Harry only resurfaced when he heard the click of their new front door. “I missed you,” he said.

“We were in the same house the entire day.”

“ _I missed you,_ ” Harry stressed, pressing into Draco. Draco’s head lolled back. 

“Of course you did. I’m brilliant. I’d missed me too,” Draco said. He wrapped his arms and legs around Harry and grinned. “Carry me.”

“Up the stairs? Are you trying to break my back?”

“Potter!”

Harry laughed and carried Draco. He wasn’t very strong; not even in the top five in the family (which went in order of: Ginny, Charlie, Bill, Molly, then Ron), but he could carry Draco’s weight, and he never bothered to work past that. 

Draco was all liquid and smiles in their new bed, on their new sheets, in their new room, with his familiar smile, familiar stretch, and that familiar bratty attitude. He pressed his stockinged feet to Harry’s crotch and raised an eyebrow.

Harry laughed and took his feet, gently peeled the sock off (he knew how much they cost), then the other. Draco stretched again, arching off the bed as he let Harry slowly take his clothes off one by one.

Draco sighed, “I’m sore.”

“Are you?” Harry said. “From what?”

“From taking mean comments from your family the whole day.”

“I’m pretty sure only Ron and George teased you.”

“And the two of them aren’t enough?”

“Touché.” Harry kissed Draco’s belly button. Draco’s cock dragged along Harry’s chest hair, making him squirm underneath. 

“Harry,” Draco whined. Like a brat. Harry kissed him, fingers sinking into Draco.

Two was soon not enough. Then it was not fast enough. Then it was Harry not kissing Draco often enough. Then it was suddenly too much.

Draco grasped Harry’s biceps and let out a guttural groan, chest heaving like he couldn’t get enough air, maybe he couldn’t, since Harry had his tongue down his throat and fingers snapping in and out so viciously, so deeply until the squelches all mixed into one single sound. All like Draco had demanded. Draco let out a shocked _gah_! and thrashed on the bed, eyes rolling back and spasming. He sagged, panting, still gently sucking on Harry’s tongue. 

“Satisfied, your brattiness?” Harry smiled into Draco’s cheek.

Draco smacked him, rolled them over and grabbed Harry’s rigid cock. His mouth was all spoiled nonsense but his eyes were all love, and said, “Not even close,” before sinking down.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to [Pineau_noir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir) for the beta!
> 
> tw: brief mention of self-harm

The robes felt too small for him, even though Harry had just gotten fitted for them at Madam Malkin’s a few months ago. Grown into such a handsome man, the tailor had said to him. Harry only felt old. 

The bell rang behind them, and Draco Malfoy had walked in, stopped at the sight of Harry, hesitantly looked at him, as though he didn’t know if he should turn back or not. Harry had stared back, wondering if it was a dream.

Madam Malkin had given Draco an encouraging smile and ushered him onto the other platform to wait. Harry had turned back to face the mirror, swallowing; it almost came as a shock when he didn’t see two 11-year-old boys reflecting back.

"Hello,” Harry had said, pins in his clothes, arms stretched out. 

Draco had cast him a quick glance, and let out a thin, shaky breath; no reply. He was still staring straight ahead when Harry left the shop.

They had to share a common room, and there really wasn’t a way for Draco to avoid Harry, not even hiding in his room. The expression on Draco’s face was almost devastating when he saw Harry, who had already claimed one of the two beds. Harry didn’t try to talk to him again even if he desperately wanted to know why Draco was wearing a T-shirt with holes in the armpit instead of silk pajamas like Harry always thought he did. And Harry didn’t talk to Draco even when he came back to his room to find Draco howling on his bed, squished between an also crying Parkinson and a wide-eyed Zabini. Draco’s left sleeve was soaked in blood. 

Harry only crouched in front of Draco and cleaned his wound up with what he remembered from the forest. Wrapped it up as Hermione would. Held onto Draco’s hands like a friend would.

Draco was the first to talk, and this time it was Harry who was crying. Harry wasn’t crying because he had a nightmare, or because he thought about Teddy, or because someone had thanked him for the war. Harry was crying because he couldn’t understand NEWT level Potions and the new professor was too starstruck to listen to Harry when he said he didn’t understand. Harry was crying because he didn’t want to ask Hermione when she was with Ron (which was always). Harry was crying because Potions was very confusing and he didn’t see himself ever figuring out since it didn’t involve killing Voldemort or sacrificing himself. 

Draco took Harry’s textbook from and made notes beside each paragraph, summarizing the welter of information into concise sentences, and drew arrows in green ink to link them all together. By this point Harry had wiped his face clean of tears and snot (on his sleeve) and was watching Draco through swollen eyes. When Draco finished, he turned the book back to Harry and explained the day’s lesson to Harry, reading everything from upside down and setting everything right.

And Harry passed his Potion NEWTs with higher scores than anyone but Draco could anticipate. And Harry celebrated it by looting the kitchen of food and drinks and surprised Draco with a feast by the lake. Though it didn’t take long for words to get out that there was food, and soon they were joined by everyone and more. Someone brought a Polaroid and Harry jumped at the chance. He grabbed Draco’s hand when posing for the photo, grinning at him with heat that felt wonderful in his cheeks. 

“Finally,” Harry said.

“What?” Draco said.

“We’re finally friends.”

Draco stared, unblinking. His hands tightened in Harry’s grip. And the flash went off.

They went into different fields after school. Harry went into Auror training as he’d planned. Draco didn’t know what he wanted now he was on his own. Hermione suggested tutoring in the meantime. _I have no qualification,_ Draco said. _Managing to help Harry Potter pass NEWTs Potions should be enough for anyone,_ Hermione replied.

It wasn’t, but Draco started out small. Teaching a few Muggleborn children that just got their Hogwarts letters some basic courses. Charms and Potions, navigating the wizarding world (which their muggle parents listened in on). Magical Theory. History— _recent_ history.

He lost a few students after that, but Draco was adamant that it was taught.

Harry often went over to Draco’s flat late at night, because he knew Draco would be up scribbling away. Harry would sit by Draco and read his own textbooks, and when Draco inevitably put down the quill to shake his wrist out (the bones making cracking noises), Harry would take it in his hands and knead it. Would feel the bone under it shift. Would circle that wrist between his thumb and index finger, squeezing it, then down to Draco’s forearm, digging his knuckles into the sore muscles, then up once more, massage each finger meticulously. 

Draco would usually fall asleep on Harry’s shoulder around the ring finger, and Harry would press a kiss to his hand. 

It was a Thursday morning when the Auror Department got called to handle a Gringotts robbery. Harry seized up at the mention, mind blanking with fear because Draco always went to Gringotts on Thursday morning to deposit his weekly earnings. No one said anything when Harry tagged along, and no one stopped him when he burst in first (they probably all thought it was what he did), frantically looking through all the frightened faces. Harry didn’t see Draco.

“There were no casualties, thank Merlin,” Ester, one of the seniors Auror on site said. “One missing.”

Harry whirled around. Draco wasn’t in the crowd. “What do you mean, one missing?”

Ester looked at her notes, “One of them went after the robbers.”

According to the witnesses, the robber didn’t go for the vaults, instead they targeted the deposit line and _Accio_ ’d people’s valuables off of them. One witness said everything happened very fast, the robbers were in and out in less than a minute, and one of the customers went after them.

“Who?” Harry’s voice broke.

“Someone recognized it as the Malfoy kid.”

It was a sloppy crime. It didn’t take long for the Aurors to track them down at Knockturn. Draco was there, a purpling bruise on his face, locked in a struggle with one man. The Aurors _Incarceroused_ the robbers and Draco fell on his bottom, hands tucked to his chest. 

Harry pushed past the crowd. When Draco saw him, his face broke into a relieved smile. A smile that shuttered when Harry starting yelling.

“What the hell were you doing!” Harry snapped at him. Draco reeled back on the ground, mouth agape. “Why would you chase them?! They were _gone_!”

“They took my stuff!” Draco said.

“Your _stuff_ !” Harry screamed. “ _What_ could possibly be worth more than _your safety!_ ” Windows around them rattled. Harry’s head was fuzzy with anger he wasn’t used to anymore. Everyone stopped talking at Harry’s outburst. Draco’s face turned bright red, and he made a startled noise when Harry snatched away whatever Draco was holding. Harry looked down and everything seemed to fall away. 

It was the photo of them, the words Harry wrote on it were faded ( _Finally friends!_ ), but it was clear that someone had retraced it carefully, many times since. 

A hand snatched the picture back. Mouth hanging open, Harry looked up at Draco.

“You went after them for that?” he asked, voice cracking at the end.

Draco stared at him, face still red with humiliation, eyes wet. “Yes,” he said. “Fine, yes!” He pushed Harry. Harry stumbled, knees weak. “I don’t need you to tell me how pathetic I am, Potter, so just fuck off and go yell at someone else.” Then he turned around, beelining toward the entrance. 

“He can’t leave yet—” an Auror said, but Harry didn’t care about procedures. He ran up and caught Draco’s arm. Draco turned and shoved him, with little effect this time. Harry stood his ground. 

“God, Potter,” Draco said, every syllable shook violently. Tears streamed down Draco’s face. His whole face scrunched up miserably. “What do you want now? I don’t need you to tell me how worthless this is to you.”

“I didn’t—” Harry tried. “That’s not what I meant. You could’ve been _killed_.” 

Draco’s fingers clawed at Harry’s grip, trying to pry it off. “Shut up, shut up!”

Harry grabbed Draco’s scrambling hand and tugged, wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist and pressed his lips to Draco’s hand. Harry’s breath shuddered, “I could’ve lost you.”

Draco was trembling. The bruise on his face broke Harry’s heart.

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s palm. “I could’ve lost you,” Harry said, voice tight with tears held back. Harry tugged Draco in further, wrapping him in a suffocating hug, burying his face in the warm crook of Draco’s neck, breathing in the comforting citrus soap for a second before turning his face into Draco and kissed him.

“I,” Draco started when Harry pulled back. “I’m sorry.” He sounded confused.

“Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Okay.”

“We can always take more photos,” Harry said into Draco’s shoulder. “Let’s go buy a camera right now. And ten thousand rolls of film.”

“Do you expect me to be robbed ten thousand times?”

Harry snorted an ugly laugh and peeked up at Draco. Draco cocked his head, brought a hand up to cup Harry’s face. Harry turned into Draco’s palm.

Draco’s other hand found Harry’s. “Ten thousand rolls it is.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco worshipping Harry’s body/body hair, vacation on a tropical island, Draco being very desperate to taste Harry and Harry being flustered, rimming, kissing

“Come here,” Draco said.

Harry had just got out of the shower to find Draco lounging on the bed in his silk robe, head propped up and facing the bathroom—the very large, floor-to-ceiling glass bathroom. Harry’s face burned as he whirled back to Draco, now wearing a very smug smile. “Were you _watching_ me shower?”

“It pleases me to see how thorough you were being,” Draco grinned. 

“Fuck off.” Harry’s face burned hotter. “I thought you were at a yoga class.”

“I had to leave early.” Draco waved his wand to open the windows. The ocean wind blew the gauzy white curtains up. The sun was just setting over the horizon. “To catch the boat back.”

“You’re the one that insisted on booking a villa in the middle of the ocean,” Harry pointed out. He was still a bit miffed at being seen showering, even if the two of them had gotten into a lot more debauchery on a daily basis. 

“So we won’t be disturbed,” Draco said, and patted the bed next to him. “Come here,” he said again.

The bed was so large Harry had to crawl to meet Draco in the middle. His fluffy bathrobe hung open as he did, and Draco’s eyes dropped to it, his breathing getting heavier. 

“You are insatiable,” Harry grumbled when Draco pushed him down and took a nipple into his mouth. 

“Oh, chin up, love,” Draco cooed. “You’re the one that said you’d make it up to me for missing Valentine’s Day. And what’s more romantic than a private water villa in the middle of the tropical ocean? We can see stars, darling.”

Harry looked to the open windows which led to the front deck that sat right above the fish-filled lagoon that surrounded their villa. Harry could jump into the clear waters from their master bedroom if he wanted. Harry hated to admit it—mostly because he had protested the idea of a lavish vacation at first—but it was pretty fucking romantic.

Draco looked as though he knew what Harry was thinking and smirked.

Harry dragged him up into a kiss. Draco’s moans gushed out of him, like he had been holding them in. He buried a hand in Harry’s hair and carded the other through Harry’s already sweat-damp chest hair, paying heady attention to the whorls of hair surrounding his nipples. Draco’s favorite, Harry knew that. 

Draco wrenched himself away and gasped for air. His cock was a hard length against Harry’s thigh, trembling and wet. “You said you’d make it up to me.”

“Yes,” Harry breathed.

“I want . . .”

“Yes.”

Draco moaned. “I want you to lie back and let me take care of you.”

Harry didn’t know how he was supposed to lie back when he was already a puddle on the bed. Draco nuzzled Harry’s beard, leaving wet little kisses along the trail, pushing Harry’s bathrobe off his shoulders and kissing them. Draco’s face was flushed red and his eyes were so bright.

“Let me kiss you as much as I want,” Draco said. “Harry, please, just this once. I know you don’t like the attention—but I could burst just thinking about it, and I think about it so much—Merlin, I won’t if you really don’t want to, but—”

Harry couldn’t speak. He arched his body and shrugged the bathrobe off and threw it somewhere behind Draco—somehow still landing on the ridiculously large bed—then lay back on the pillows and spread his legs.

Draco swallowed. The front of his robe was tented gorgeously, with a patch of wet spot that was spreading. It made Harry feel good.

The next second, Draco’s hands and lips and body were back on him, kissing every available patch of skin, freckles, scars and returning to kiss Harry’s mouth every few seconds. Draco’s hands caressing Harry’s chest hair, and carding through the thick curls loosely in a bun. His nails scraping against Harry’s inner thigh, across the coarse hair there. Draco let out a moan when their chests bumped into each other as Harry arched off the bed. 

“I hate how gorgeous you are, Potter,” Draco said. He called Harry that when his head was muddy with anger or lust. He nuzzled Harry’s beard, biting down, got back up to suck on Harry’s tongue when Harry gasped. Then Draco moved down to his chest, did the same nuzzle—shouldn’t it be disgusting? Harry thought wildly. Shouldn’t Draco, who always powdered his face and body because he hated sweating, find Harry gross? But Draco’s hips were making small, jerking movements against Harry’s thigh, and he certainly looked like he was enjoying himself very much. 

Draco yanked Harry down and around, tugging his hips up. Harry felt his cheeks being spread and had to hide his face in his arms as Draco thumbed at the wiry hair there, as Draco leaned down to gently bite Harry’s ass. As Draco took in a deep breath and asked, low and husky, “Jojoba oil?”

“It’s the lotion they have here,” Harry mumbled shyly. 

“God, it makes you glow,” Draco said into the gentle bites. He blew on Harry’s hole, and Harry twitched, moaning into his arms.

“I’m going to make out with your arse, Potter,” Draco said. 

“Shut up,” Harry said. “God—just—please—” Then he couldn’t talk for a long time. 

Later, however long later, when Harry was a shaking, wet mess of sweat, cum, and spit, with Draco’s head pillowed contently on his chest, his hands rubbing at the sweat-matted hair there, nosing it all the while, Harry asked, “Why did you have to wait until we’re here to. . .”

Draco opened one eye to peer up at him. “Indulge in my life-long fantasy?”

Harry felt his blush creeping back. “Life-long? We’ve been together for four years.”

Draco snorted. “I’m not telling you more.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, letting his legs and arms spread out on the bed. Draco being half on top of him was hot enough even with night finally settling over them. Harry looked at the starry sky through their glass ceiling—Draco really knew how to woo a man. “Why now?”

Draco chuckled, “Our bed wasn’t big enough.”


	20. Chapter 20

“I don’t understand,” Ron was saying desperately. “Why would she want me to get her flowers? I thought she hated those kinds of things!”

“What kind of things?” Harry asked. 

“You know!” Ron said. Harry didn’t know. 

“Flowers being cut down in their prime?” Harry guessed.

“No!” Ron said. “Things like, what a traditional girl would want. When I tried to carry her bag for her I thought she was going to bust out The Frown.” 

Draco muttered something rude from the crook of Harry’s arms. Harry pinched him.

“Be nice, Ron’s having a crisis.” 

“Can he have it somewhere that is not my home?” Draco said. “My bachelor pad is being overrun by gingers! I have green walls, it clashes horribly with ginger.” 

“Fuck off,” Ginny said. “And green doesn’t clash with ginger.”

“ _Everything_ clashes with ginger,” Draco said.

“Bachelor pad?” Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco. 

“Just a figure of speech,” Draco hurriedly amended. 

“Dear Merlin, we don’t need two couple’s quarrel here,” Pansy snapped. 

“Can we come back to me, please? My girlfriend is upset and I don’t know why!” Ron said.

“You and your sister intruded on movie night!” Draco said.

“I just want to see him flounder about,” Ginny said. 

“I don’t know either, Ron,” Harry said. “Girls aren’t my strong suit.”

“ _Amen_ ,” Ginny said, and shrieked when a pillow hit her in the face. 

Ron looked around miserably. “I thought she doesn’t like those girls stuff—”

“ _Oh_ ,” Pansy jumped up, marched straight to Ron, “Shut. UP!”

“What?” Ron said. 

“Shut it!” Pansy said. “Stop with your stupid fucking ‘girl stuff’ talk, or how Granger obviously would dislike it because she’s clever or independent or whatever—”

“I never said that!” Ron yelped. Ginny straightened from her seat, eyes on Pansy. 

“ —as if there’s a manual for different kinds of women. Oh, conventional girls like to have men open their doors for them, and modern women would want to open their own doors. Or conventional girls like to be gifted flowers, and therefore independent women like Granger must hate it! Have you ever stop and think maybe she just _likes_ flowers?”

Ron gaped. Closed his mouth. Gulped. “She likes peonies,” he said.

Pandy poked him in the chest. “Stop thinking about what girls like and start thinking about what _Granger_ likes.” Then she kicked him into the Floo. 

Harry remained stock-still in fear and strangely reaffirmed in his own gayness. Draco was unimpressed, picking at his nails. 

“Can we get back to the movie now?” he whined. 

“Er, yeah,” Harry said. “You staying, Gin?”

“No.” Ginny stood and walked over to Pansy, took her by the waist and yanked her close. Pansy’s mouth dropped; her face flushed. “I have other plans,” she said, walking Pansy backward.

Draco waved a hand, eyes already back on the TV, and said, “Use the guest room or kitchen.” And Harry sputtered, “Just because _you_ don’t use the kitchen doesn’t mean—” But Draco ignored him. Somewhere deeper in Draco’s not-bachelor pad came noises that were unmistakenly kissing, Pansy’s moans and Ginny’s low voice, “Putting men in their place, so fucking _hot_ —”


	21. Chapter 21

“There are still boxes.”

Harry twirled Draco twice and caught him close, pressing his cheek to Draco’s temple. “And we’ll sort them tomorrow.”

Draco glanced at the boxes, and Harry knew it bothered him, to leave them all scattered around. But they were tired. It’d been a long day, full of noises from friends and family coming over to help, while actually sitting around and eating all their food before they even made it into the cupboard. 

Harry turned his head and pressed a kiss to the corner of Draco’s eye. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Draco shook his head, but he was looking at Harry with something very raw in his eyes. 

The radio played another song. A slow one. Something about resting your head on my shoulder. And inexplicably, Harry’s eyes welled up, as he did just that.

“God, Harry, what’s—what’s wrong?” Draco echoed.

Tears soaked Draco’s shirt. Harry let himself cry. Draco’s arms went around Harry’s waist. 

“I love you so much,” Harry said. “I’m so glad I met you.”

Draco dropped his forehead to Harry’s shoulder as he choked out a sob. 

“You make my heart so sore,” he said. “I look at you and it aches from how much I love you.”

They swayed in their home (their arms). 

Harry pulled back. He was still crying a little, and look at Draco, who was not crying, but the tip of his nose was red. 

“Do I soothe it, too?” Harry asked.

Draco kissed him. 

“I don’t want you to,” he said. “I hope my heart is sore from love for the rest of my life.”

The music continued. Mutely. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you pineau-noir for the beta and @Yashu @coincidental on dicord for the brit-pick!

Harry Potter’s house is big and full of people and Draco Malfoy is one of them. Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place is full of good and sad people and Draco is only one of those things. The house is dark and damaged, but its inhabitants help fix it up. Pansy’s good at painting the walls because she’s a perfectionist. Blaise is good at decorating and even better at telling the Gryffindors to ease up on the red. Greg and Theo are good at getting rid of the pureblood bric-a-brac that no one wants to touch. And Potter’s gang are doing their own things, what that entails, Draco can’t be certain, but he’s sure that they deserve their place in the house. Draco helps by making himself scarce.

(He tries to. He really does.)

Draco comes back from work and goes to his room. He comes out when Ginevra drags him out for dinner because Harry insists on having meals together. (It's the only rule here.) Draco eats his food and talks about his day when someone asks. (He talks about his day a lot because someone always asks.) He does the dishes while Granger sits behind him and they do the crosswords together. She is smart enough to figure all of them out but for some reason she likes it better when Draco contradicts her. She writes his answers down and the crossword section becomes a mess, with _Prandtl–Glauert Singularity_ written in 14 across and a quote from _Nausea_ written in 5 down, going out of the boxes. Weasley saves the ones he likes the most on the fridge. Then Draco goes back to his room.

He doesn’t sleep very much; he doesn’t feel like there is enough time in a day for sleeping. At night he reads, and he ventures out for tea when his eyes start aching. The kitchen is right next to the drawing-room where people go to cry during the night because sleep is unlikely here and no one is rude enough to take that away from people who manage to stay in bed. Draco has seen Greg there, his wand in one hand and a whittling knife in another. He has seen Neville smoothing out sweet wrappers one by one. Ginevra puts up silencing charms and breaks down in there. Luna and Thomas hold onto each other the way Draco remembered them doing in his old home. Pansy obsessively cleans up in there, so no one will be able to tell it was a site of heartbreak once morning comes.

Draco doesn’t go in and sit with them like Harry does. The kitchen is right there, so Draco makes tea. Harry waits in the kitchen for Draco to finish, and asks Draco to go with him, but Draco goes back to his room.

It's the first Christmas after the war, and the first time spending it with this group. Luna asks Draco to help put up the fairy lights while Harry hovers at the bottom of the ladder Draco is on, ready to catch him if he falls, even though Draco said this little fall wouldn’t kill him anyway. Harry looks up at him, dark circles under his eyes and spots on his chin because he stays up with people nearly every night. Draco has always been very superficial. He likes pretty things, and Harry Potter has never looked more lovely than he does standing there, keeping Draco safe from a four-foot fall. 

“I think I like the red and green lights better,” says Luna serenely from the other side of him. Draco starts and actually does stumble from his stand. Harry’s arms are like a furnace, and he’s doing a crap job at keeping Draco from getting hurt because Draco’s chest is aching something fierce.

The house is in decorating hell, and no one notices them holding onto each other a little longer than necessary.

(Everyone notices. They just don’t really mind.)

Draco wanders down that night, hesitant and feeling a little exposed now that the halls are lit with lights and tinsel. But Grimmauld Place is quiet tonight, and he thinks that this might be the first time he finds the drawing-room empty.

Only the tree is lit in the room, and it certainly looks empty. Draco makes two cups of tea.

Draco gropes blindly around in the dark for a while before his hand finally snags on a slippery fabric. He pulls the Cloak back. Harry has his face in his hands.

Draco reaches out to grip Harry’s jumper tightly. “If you sit with everyone, who sits with you, Harry?”

Harry can’t answer Draco then. His jeans are wet from the tears escaping the gaps of his fingers, the lights coloring them green and red. The room is silent except for the humming of a toy train on the fireplace, going in circles on its track. The fairy lights are still twinkling, and Harry Potter is still crying.

Draco wraps his free arm around Harry and rests his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. 

“I’m not you. I don’t sit with people. I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re…” Harry says, slowly, when he isn’t crying. “You’re doing it now.”

And Draco is. He hadn’t even realized he had knelt on the sofa next to Harry. “But you’re still crying.”

“I don’t.” Harry stops, takes in a few wet, shuddering breaths. When he looks up his eyes are still dripping. “I don’t stop them from doing whatever they were doing. I just stay with them and we drink your tea.” Then, “Why don’t I ever see you in here?”

“What do I have to cry about?” Draco asks. 

Harry wipes a tear from his eye. The lights around them dim for the respite that even holiday decorations need, and the solitary tear clings to Harry like Draco is. Harry cups Draco’s face, and the tear drops, just beside Draco’s eye. It's still warm when it slides into Draco’s lips as he parts them for Harry to kiss. Truly, what does Draco have to cry about?

They share Draco's cup of tea, then they share the second cup. Harry’s eyes are dry and his mouth is soft. Draco kisses both. 

The next morning, Draco wakes up to the shouts of Finnigan and Weasley arguing about what they want for their advent calendar: milk chocolate or chocolate liqueurs? And it goes on until Blaise somehow procures both and shuts them up. Ginevra thunders down the stairs screaming about breakfast, and at least five voices yell back from the kitchen. Granger passes by Draco’s room and he hears her muffled murmur through the door, “I can’t figure out 8 across...oh, that’s it!” Draco thinks about Harry at the stove, making something that is surely too sweet to be ingested safely, his mouth shiny from the honey he always sneaks a spoon of, and how sweet it will taste on Draco’s lips. 

And Draco comes out of his room. 

  
  



	23. Chapter 23

"We're going to die," Draco said.

"We are not going to die."

"Yes, oh god, oh Merlin, we're going to die. I'm definitely going to die. You obviously won't because you're too annoying for even Death to want you, but _me—_ "

"Excuse me," the man behind them said. "Can you tell your boyfriend to stop? He's scaring my child."

"I'm not scared," the little girl said primly. "Because I'm not afraid of airplanes."

Draco twisted around in his seat. "Listen here you little-"

"That's enough." Harry put a palm to Draco's face and pushed him back into his seat. It was a miracle how Draco was moving around with how tightly he had the seatbelt on. Harry turned to the father. "Sorry about that. He's feral."

Draco hissed. "I am not!" He twisted around again. "And he's not my boyfriend. As if!"

"Yes, we're not together. We're just two blokes who love to snog and sleep in the same bed and take trips to celebrate the new year together. Imagine!"

"We did that _once—_ ”

“We did it more than once—you literally kissed me this morning—and yesterday morning, and last night—”

“Those were _pecks_. It hardly counts—”

"Just drink something and go to sleep," the father said. He obviously didn't care about the (not) snogging and sleeping together but only for Draco to stop his freak-out.

Draco grumbled. His knuckles were bone-white from gripping the armrest so tightly. (Hogging them, really. Harry had to awkwardly keep his arm in his lap to avoid bumping into Draco because he just knew he would get slapped for it.) It made Harry feel bad for him at first, but after five hours it had gotten really old.

"Do you want a drink?" Harry said. "I can ask them for you."

"I don't need you to ask them for me."

"Fine, press the button to call them over yourself."

Draco looked at the various buttons with pure fear.

Harry inched his finger towards them.

"Don't!" Draco yelled, earning them complaints from nearby passengers. "I will hex you if you touch those!"

Harry laughed. "You're unbelievable," he said. "But please don't. You don't want to use magic around machines when we're this far up in the air."

Draco's face turned white. Harry felt bad. But only for a few seconds because the next thing he knew, Draco was lunging for his crotch.

"What the—"

"Give it!"

"Stop going for my prick, you stupid wanker!"

" _Excuse_ me!" the father behind them said indignantly.

"Give me your wand!" Draco said.

"Why?!"

"Because your magic is fucking insane and I shan't trust it! Give it here so I can make sure we live to see the coast of New York!"

"I can control it just fine—" Harry said, but Draco managed to get a hold of his wand and was trying to hide it. Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled. "Stop it!"

"I'm trying to save our lives!" Draco said, and promptly knocked over Harry's soda. It spilled onto Harry's jeans, because of course it did.

Draco took the chance to wrench the wand away and tucked it into his one-thousand-pound Prada bag. "There," Draco said, patting it. "Safe and sound."

The plane jolted and Draco started screaming. Harry sighed and left the soda to dry on his jeans. Because that was what he got for being Draco Malfoy’s boyfriend. 

  
  



End file.
